


the moment we forgot we were just good friends

by virtuosity



Category: Figure Skating RPF
Genre: End of 2018, F/M, Fluff, Mild Angst, Post-TTYCT, Vancouver
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-02
Updated: 2018-12-02
Packaged: 2019-09-05 14:32:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,173
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16812556
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/virtuosity/pseuds/virtuosity
Summary: The thing is, they hadn’t been lying when they said those things about their relationship - every denial had come honestly. Romance just wasn’t something that had ever been part of the equation with them.Until now, apparently.





	the moment we forgot we were just good friends

**Author's Note:**

> This was half-written before the....well, the fandom meltdown and I thought maybe I should finish it. That's basically it. It's also not really edited, so...sorry about that. 
> 
> Does this count as a fix-it fic?

_Vancouver - December 7th, 2018_

She’s curled away from him, head resting on one of her arms, shoulders moving gently with every breath. His eyes follow the line of her body down the slope of her to where her skin disappears under the sheet just below her hips. His gaze lingers on her back, bare in the moonlight but for the freckles sprinkled across her skin, and he finally admits it.

They were wrong, and it pisses him off.

For some reason, tonight had been the night. The signing in Vancouver, their last public appearance of 2018 - it had felt like the end of something. Despite all of the plans they had for the coming year, there was something different about this one. 2018 had been nothing but astounding from beginning to end, and it felt as though, finally, their little bubble was about to burst. They had cultivated it in the years leading up to the Olympics and it lingered for months after, that unity and partnership propelling them through the rest of the year, but cracks had started to form. With the tour ending days apart were going to start turning into weeks apart. There was the napkin with that guy’s number he'd found on the floor of her room, plus the sudden reappearance of Jackie, and it all seemed like it was barrelling toward something. He knew it wouldn’t be like Sochi, but it wasn’t going to be like _this_ anymore.

So they had celebrated, just the two of them - a nice dinner, a couple of drinks, and then they were outside her room and there was an interesting look in her eye that felt like warmth pooling low in his stomach. Somehow, without words, they had decided that this was going to be the time, just because - because they wanted to know what it was like, because it would be fun, because why not, who knows - but then they were kissing and then they were more than kissing and that’s how he found himself staring at the back of her head as she slept beside him.

It wasn’t like fireworks. There was no earth-shattering lightning bolt of recognition. Which is not to say that the sex was bad, the sex was fantastic - knowing someone else’s body that well was always going to lend itself to amazing sex - but it wasn’t just that. He’d had good sex before, but this was just...different. And whatever it was that made it different also made liars out of them.

The thing is, they _hadn’t_ been lying when they said those things about their relationship. Every denial had come honestly. Romance just wasn’t something that had ever been part of the equation with them. Even when they were teenagers it had mostly been based on the constant assumption that they were _supposed_ to have those feelings for one another and it had led to a kiss here and there and a lot of hurt feelings, but that was it.

They were platonic best friend business partner bandmates soulmates - mates who didn’t mate.

They _weren’t_ dating. They loved each other but they didn’t _love_ each other.

Except -

“We were wrong, weren’t we?”

At the sound of her voice, he lets out a soft, slow breath unsurprised that she’s awake and thinking the same things that he is. She turns her head to look at him, laying her cheek on her hands. “Weren’t we?” she asks again.

He reaches over to push a strand of hair off of her face. “I think so.”

She sighs. “Yeah.”

“How do you feel about that?” he asks.

“Well,” she says slowly. “Mostly I feel...really annoyed.”

He laughs softly. “Me too.”

They’re quiet for a moment, looking at each other, silently unsilent in the way only they can be.

“So what do we do?” he asks.

She reaches out and runs a finger across his cheek then over the shell of his ear, ending with a soft pull on his earlobe. It’s tender and intimate like this new part of their relationship, but also playful and sweet the way their relationship had always been, and _of course_ \- that was the dream. Tenderness and intimacy and playfulness and trust.

Now that he thinks about it, they would have been so incredibly stupid to not let this happen. As much as they perpetuated their will they/won’t they image there had always been a part of them that was bothered by the fact that it was such a big part of their career. They were talented and they worked really fucking hard, and even though the media play was always part of the story and helped build momentum, it got under their skin that the first question they were always asked was about their personal life.

Tessa didn’t like to be told what to do and Scott refused to be predictable - they were both stubborn and headstrong and hated doing what was expected of them, ever. So they didn’t. They didn’t date. They didn’t kiss or have crushes or get jealous or fuck around, and, really, at the end of the day their obstinance served them well. They had plenty of other issues to work through and ways to fuck up without it; if they’d let that be part of who they were they would have imploded much earlier and never recovered.

But, apparently, in the end, they did _love_ each other. God damn it.

“I think we just suck it up,” she replies, pulling him from his thoughts.

“Suck it up and own that we’ve been talking out of our asses?”

“Yeah,” she says softly.

“This is going to work, right?” he asks, fairly certain in his own answer to the question.

She nods. “I mean, we did the work already.”

“You mean how we went to couples therapy and built a relationship on trust and communication?” he asks, only somewhat teasing.

“Oh are we actually going to call it couples therapy now?” she replies.

“At this point I think we have to.”

“We don’t have to do anything,” she says firmly, that fierce Tessa tenacity bleeding into her words.

“We don’t,” he replies. “But maybe we should.”

Her gaze softens slightly as she looks at him. “Should we?”

“I think so.”

She pauses for a moment. “So. A couple.”

“Yeah.”

“We’re a couple.”

“I think so,” he says.

“A couple. A pair. Partners,” she replies.

“Weird how all of those words we used before still apply, huh?” he asks wryly.

She groans and buries her face in her arms. “This is going to be terrible.”

With a chuckle, he says, “If I were anyone else I would be pretty upset right now.”

“That’s why you aren’t anyone else,” comes her muffled reply.

“C’mere,” he says, pulling her toward him. She stubbornly keeps her face buried in the crook of her arm, but let’s him pull her tightly against him. “We should be happy. That’s a thing people do.”

“We aren’t people,” she mutters. “We’re some weird ice dance alien hybrid.”

“That is quite an assessment of our lives there, T.”

She peeks out from her hiding place and says, “Are you seriously not thinking about what this going to be like? The media? Other skaters? Our _families_?”

“Of course I am,” he sighs.

“And?”

“And I’m pissed off,” he says roughly, rolling onto his back. “Of course, I’m pissed off. Our entire career and everything we have accomplished is going to mean nothing - this is all we'll ever be asked about, this will be the first thing people remember about us. It fucking sucks.”

‘It _does_ suck, thank you!” she exclaims. “This is what I’m saying.”

“I’m with you. It sucks,” he says.

“It _so_ sucks,” she adds, collapsing to her back in a huff. “Do you have any idea what it’s going to be like? It’s going to be open season for gossip and rumors and I’ll have a big red target on my back.”

“Fuck ‘em.”

She rolls her eyes and looks at him. “It doesn’t work like that and you know it. You’ll get congratulatory high fives because you’ve been fucking your skating partner but I’m going to get judged. People will think I was the reason you broke up with every single girlfriend you've ever had. I’ll be the other woman, the slut, the irresponsible one who didn’t consider the consequence,” she says sharply.

He reaches over to tangle his fingers with hers. He knows there’s nothing he can say to make that better. She’s right. He hates it, but she is. That’s how the world worked, and it’s certainly how the skating world did.

“Even my friends, Scott. Kaitlyn? Joanie? They’re going to have doubts. The only person who is going to believe me is my mother,” she finishes darkly.

“And mine,” he adds, giving her a tentative smile.

“Well. That makes it all better.”

They’re silent for a moment. 

“But,” he says firmly. “We deserve this part too.” She leans up on one elbow to see him better and he continues, “We’ve lived our whole lives being monitored in one way or another, I would say that we’ve earned this.”

Their eyes meet and after a beat she smiles. “We’ve earned the sex?”

He laughs, feeling some of the tension release at her words, and takes the opportunity to roll over to pin her beneath him. “Yes.” He leans down to kiss her while sliding his hands down her sides and tickling her and he is again struck by the thought that this is exactly how it should be. He can tease her and kiss her and make her laugh and make her come; he can depend on her and hold her up and lay her down and have his way with her. That’s everything.

She laughs loudly before catching his hands in hers and holding them away from her sides. “Unfair.”

He kneels above her and pins her hands to the bed. “Listen, if I’d known I could have been doing _this_ when we were doing Carmen? During basically our entire comeback? I have fucking earned this.”

“Exactly. That’s what I said. You’ve earned the right to fuck me,” she replies with a grin as she arches her body up into him.

He growls at her and presses himself into her, nipping at her neck lightly. “Not the right, but certainly the pleasure.”

She sighs softly and he pulls back so he can see her face.

He hesitates. “I know that this sucks and we’re both really annoyed and kinda pissed off, but...you’re also okay with it right?”

She gives him a look. “Of course I am. If I weren’t I’d be gone already.”

He smiles. “Oh I have no doubt about that. I’ve seen you run from commitment for years.”

She gasps and wriggles against his grip. “That’s just rude.”

He just barely manages to keep his hold on her and laughs, “But it’s not wrong is it?”

With a sigh, she stops fighting him and goes limp, biting her lip. “This is what it’s going to be like isn’t it?”

“What?”

“You know _everything._ ”

He lets go of her hands and leans onto his elbows over her. “And that’s bad?”

She avoids his gaze for a moment. “It’s...different.”

“Different than?”

“Everybody else.”

He takes in what she’s saying, knowing that she’s giving him a glimpse into her previous relationships that even he hadn’t had before.

“Well,” he replies. “I don’t know _everything_.”

She looks at him, a hint of a question in her eyes.

“I don’t know…” he thinks for a moment. “I don’t know what your favorite position is.” She rolls her eyes, but he can tell that there’s something in that that appeases her. “And I don’t know,” he says, “how many times I can make you come in one night.”

She rolls her hips lightly, and he takes the hint continue. “I don’t know what the wickedest lingerie you own is. I can imagine, given what you have worn on the ice over the years, and I really _really_ hope I can convince you to include those thigh high stockings from the tour, but…”

She giggles quietly. 

He rests his chin gently on her chest. “There are things we don’t know, T. There are things left to learn.”

“Yeah?” she asks softly and he gives a small nod, placing a kiss to her sternum.

“Yeah.”

“And the stuff you already know…” she trails off.

“It’s a _good_ thing,” he insists quietly.

“I hope so,” she whispers.

“I know you, Tess. And nothing that I know is going to stop this. It hasn’t yet, hey? No matter how hard we tried?”

She smiles then, a nice, wide Tessa smile, and he grins back. 

“Okay?”

“Okay.”

He kisses her then and then he more than kisses her and eventually they fall asleep, fingers tangled together comfortably - the way they had been since they were kids. Nothing much had changed, but everything had.

They were wrong. Thank _god_.


End file.
